


i like my body when it is with your body

by sxldato



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Awkward First Times, Body Image, Breasts, Canon Queer Character, Gender Dysphoria, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Self-Acceptance, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, does fingering count as losing ones virginity? who even cares, mention of menstruation, my beautiful nerd children ugh oh my god, will solace is a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico learns how to open up, and realizes that he kind of likes how it feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i like my body when it is with your body

**Author's Note:**

> happy late Valentine's Day from your friendly neighborhood aromantic  
> this fic was an adventure like i've never written about vaginas before so,, did i do terribly? i don't know and i don't care  
> this is a few years post-BoO so they're 18/19-ish  
> i tried to veer away from the whole "will fixes nico" trope because that trope pisses me off a little bit?? i wanted this to be more about nico coming to terms with himself and accepting who he is and having will _support_ him, but not "fixing" him, because that's really not how things work and that's not how relationships should be depicted  
>  ANYWAYS the title and the poem within the fic is is from e.e. cummings's "i like my body when it is with your body" which is a wonderful poem and it's one of my favorites.

**i like my body when it is with your**  
**body. It is so quite new a thing.**  
**Muscles better and nerves more.**

His breasts are small, just barely a B-cup, easy to hide. His hips are slim, and the curves they create are veiled by baggy t-shirts and loose-fitting pants. He’s still thin, and the boniness of his shoulders make it harder to realize that they slope down instead of broadening out.

Still, his eyelashes are too long, his jawline too delicate, his cheekbones too high, and his lips too dark. From a distance it can’t be seen, but up close it all screams feminine, screams _woman._

And for a long time, he hates it. The feeling of this body not being his, of living some sort of false life, of wanting to reach between his legs and feel something that isn’t there—it almost crushes him. Almost.

Sometimes it’s hard; sometimes when his voice goes too high, or when a cramp ripples through his lower half, he fills to the brim with anger and despair and he needs a moment to himself to keep from crying. Sometimes a moment is all he needs, and sometimes the need to cry is stronger.

But most of the time it’s bearable. Most of the time he forgets. He sweats through his binders when he trains and he’s let himself drip blood all over his cabin floor on more than one occasion—not because he’s angry in that moment, but because he doesn’t care. And moments when he doesn’t care are few and fleeting, so he savors them.

What constantly worries him is telling Will, because he knows there will come a time when Will does what he himself does—reach down to feel something where there is nothing. It’s ever-present, an uncomfortable pressure at the back of his skull, nagging and tormenting with each passing day of this secret he hides beneath a single layer of fabric.

The actual conversation is blunt and short, because he can’t bring himself to carry it out longer than absolutely necessary.

“You know I’m a boy.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“But the thing is… I, uh…“

“Nico, what is it?”

“I… I don’t have a penis?” He says it like it’s a question, like he’s asking _why_ he doesn’t have one—and that’s funny, sort of, because he’s been asking himself that for nearly four years.

It takes Will all of three seconds to process it, which is a relief, because Nico doesn’t think he’d be able to relive the weeks it had taken Percy to figure out he was queer _after_ he’d come out. “Oh, you’re trans.”

The ease at which Will says the word is perplexing. “Y-yeah, I guess.”

Will nods. “Okay.”

“… Okay?”

Will nods again. “You’re still you. You’re just you without a penis. It doesn’t matter to me.”

That’s one of the moments where Nico needs to cry.

◊

After he tells Will, he finds himself being more at ease when Will touches him—finds himself liking it, even. He doesn’t get scared when Will puts his arm around his shoulder or interlaces their fingers, doesn’t flinch away at the caressing of his cheek or the weight of Will’s hand on his hip. It’s a comfort, it’s stabilizing, and there are never any remarks about the curves of his body because it’s already common knowledge to the two of them.

They know each other. They know each other’s bodies, even if they haven’t _seen_ all of it. They memorize each other’s skin like maps, tracing over veins like they were roads, falling over the hills and valleys of muscle and bone, not caring about where it lead. The lack of sharp angles and abundance of gentle bends of Nico’s body aren’t new; it’s an old route to them both, and the only surprises are potholes of fresh wounds or cracks in the pavement from scarred flesh.

And once a month, give or take, a small bump develops in the dip of Nico’s waist. Will is always careful, because sometimes Nico doesn’t want that part of him touched, but when he does, Will is tender and slow. Steadying the cramps isn’t hard, but it’s intimate; he can feel the pulsating warmth of the blood and the twisting of the muscles as they cramp up.

That week is always hard, no matter what, and on some days Nico can’t bring himself to get out of bed, even if there’s blood on his sheets. Will doesn’t push him to get up, doesn’t even suggest he change the blankets; he’ll climb into bed with Nico and hold him there without batting an eyelash, if that’s what Nico needs from him.

Nico once commented on how it was probably because as a healer, Will was dealing with blood all the time, so it didn’t phase him the way it would other people.

“Maybe,” Will had said, “But it’s also because it’s you.”

**i like your body.  i like what it does,**  
**i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine**  
**of your body and its bones, and the trembling**  
**-firm-smooth ness and which i will**  
**again and again and again**  
**kiss,**

Months go by and Nico hasn’t shown Will his whole body. A part of him feels bad—not from keeping himself from Will, he knows he has that right, and he knows Will doesn’t mind. He feels bad that it’s still something he wants to hide, after everything.

“I know I don’t owe it to you,” Nico says.

They’re both on his bed with Nico straddling Will’s hips. Will’s shirt is somewhere crumpled up on the floor, and there’s a bruise blossoming on his neck where Nico had pinched the sensitive skin between his teeth. Nico knows what the next step should be, and for once he wants to take that step.

He thinks, with his heart pounding and his mind humming with arousal, that this is as ready as he’ll ever be. This buzz could only last for so long, and he’s afraid that if it goes away, he’ll lose the courage to do it.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Will says.

“But I still want to do this. I want you to see me. And if I don’t do it now, it’s not gonna happen.”

Will sits up, keeping Nico in his lap as he tucks Nico’s hair behind his ears. His fingers aren’t calloused or scarred the way most demigods’ hands were. The nails were bitten short because of convenience and anxiety, and the fingers themselves were thin and nimble, delicate in how they moved. Nico loved them.

“We can stop whenever you want to,” Will tells him. “If you get uncomfortable—“

“I’ll tell you,” Nico insists. “I promise.”

Will’s hands are light in their touch as they tug at the hem of Nico’s shirt and pull it up and over his head.

“Your binder—“

“You can try to get it off if you want.”

“It’s so fitted to your body, I don’t think I can.”

“There’s a lot of maneuvering involved.”

Will gets it halfway, but it stops pulling up so easily once it reaches Nico’s chest. “I can’t get it off,” Will whines, and Nico bites back a laugh.

“You go from the straps, not from the waist,” Nico says. “I’ll show you so you know for next time.”

“Next time?” Will stutters.

“Yeah, next time.” Nico starts pulling at the straps of his binder, loosening them a little. “The best way to overcome discomfort is to practice. We gotta practice.”

“I—okay.”

“Watch me, then.” Nico crosses his arms behind his head, grabbing the opposite straps, bends over himself, and then pulls hard. It takes a while and involves lots of aggressive yanking, but it comes off. Nico straightens, keeping the bundle of fabric close to his chest, not exposing himself just yet.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I don’t know, I’m—“

“You don’t have to explain,” Will says.

Nico nods to himself and glances down at his binder, really wanting to let go of it and at the same time desperately wanting to cover himself.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Will asks, obviously sensing Nico’s hesitance. “Because I could always turn around and you could put your binder back on.”

“No, I want to,” Nico says as forcefully as he can. “I can do this.”

He doesn’t know if it takes him a few seconds or several minutes, but eventually his hands go slack and the binder falls out of his hands. In the silence, he hears a soft exhale leave Will’s mouth.

“So,” Nico starts awkwardly, “this is… this is it.”

“I don’t know how to respond.”

“Well, say _some_ thing.”

“They’re, uh. They’re small.”

Nico starts to laugh. “Yeah, I guess I got lucky, huh?”

“Am I allowed to say they’re nice?”

“Yeah.”

“I think they’re really nice.”

He knows Will would say that about _any_ part of him, but he also knows that Will is just about as genuine as a person can get. “Thanks, Will.”

“So can I…?”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

Will’s arms wrap around Nico’s back and turns them both over, slowly settling Nico back into the mattress. They close the distance between their lips, chests pressing together, sharing body heat. Will leans down and leaves a soft trail of kisses from Nico’s collarbone, between his two breasts, all the way to the waistband of his jeans. He pauses, looking up to meet Nico’s eyes, asking without saying anything.

Nico shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. “Another time.”

Will nods and shifts forward to kiss the soft curve of Nico’s jaw. “Whatever you want,” he murmurs.

Will’s hands are warm against his chest, never rough, and Nico decides that taking off his binder might not be as bad as he thought, if this is what happens when it’s gone.

**i like kissing this and that of you,**  
**i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz**  
**of your electric furr, and what-is-it comes**  
**over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,**

After eighty years, he hadn’t thought time could fly by anymore. Being wrenched from one century and thrust into another seemed to have caused the rest of his days to last for weeks. One sunrise melted into another at the pace of paint drying on a wall, and he had feared going stir-crazy from spending his summers in one spot.

But a year had flashed by, almost a blur, except Nico remembers all of it.

His knees are trembling, threatening to give out underneath him from the anticipation pulsing through his veins, as he finds Will in the Infirmary. His eyes light up when he sees Nico in the entryway, and Nico doesn’t think he’s seen someone more beautiful.

“You’re back,” he says, relief and joy spilling into his words.

“Come with me.” Nico takes Will by the hand and pulls him along until they reach his cabin, untouched since last summer.

“Nico?”

“Don’t ask questions,” Nico says, and pulls Will down by the collar of the shirt to slam their mouths together in a messy, desperate kiss. Will makes a small noise of surprise, but quickly relaxes into it and lets Nico push him up against the wall, only breaking away so Nico can strip off both their shirts.

Nico reaches up with one hand and knots his fingers in Will’s hair, using the other to keep Will’s hands at the small of his back, keeping him close. He missed the feeling of Will’s body against his, missed the intimacy; he missed the purposeful touch of someone who knew him (loved him) rather than the accidental bumping into a stranger that was so frequent on city streets.

Will breaks away for a moment to ask, “Bed, maybe?”

They practically fall over each other trying to get there while at the same time trying to keep close.

“Remember last August, when I said I wanted to wait?” Nico sinks back onto his bed, dragging Will with him to sit between his legs.

“You wanted to wait for a lot of things,” Will says between kisses to Nico’s neck. “Is this— wait, no, are you talking about--?“

“Yeah, that ‘other time’ I was talking about? That’s right now.”

Will stops, pulls back. “Y-you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Now, right now.”

“Are you sure—“

“Will, I’ve been on three trains for the past two days, I’ve been yelled at in a public bathroom, and the guy next to me on the Pittsburg Amtrak smelled like cheap cigarettes. So can you _please_ just go down on me without asking if I’m ready? Because I’m fucking ready.”

Will makes a noise that sounds a little like a wheeze. “Yes, yes, absolutely. It would be an honor.”

“You’re a goddamn saint, Will Solace.”

There’s a lot of fumbling with the button and zipper, but Will manages to get Nico’s jeans around his knees. He takes the hem of Nico’s boxer shorts and, with one last look at Nico to check for any uncertainty, pulls them down to Nico’s knees as well.

“So I’ve never really done this, but I read a lot of Cosmopolitan articles, and I’ve got some ideas about how I’m supposed to do it—“

“You’re adorable.”

“Stop,” Will groans, and Nico laughs. “I just gotta know if you want, um—do you want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Fingers—I want you to kiss me while you do it.”

“How do I know if I’m doing it right?”

“You’ve gotta be trying _really_ hard to get it wrong.”

“Okay, okay, so I’m just—“ Will’s kissing him, one hand on his chest, the other moving down, down, down; his thumb runs over the super sensitive spot at the very top and Nico’s breath catches in his throat.

“Was that good?”

“Yes,” Nico manages, feeling pleasure starting to coil in the pit of his stomach.

Will goes an inch or so lower, brushing against the soft, pink folds, and says, “How the hell am I supposed to find it if I’m not looking?”

“You’ve delivered _babies_ , shouldn’t you know where it is?”

“But I was _looking_ down there when I was—wait, wait! I think…”

One of Will’s fingers pushes up into him and Nico all but gasps. “Yeah, yeah, you definitely got it,” Nico breathes. “But put in another finger.”

“You’ll tell me if it hurts.”

“You’re a doctor, don’t you know it stretches?”

“I know it stretches! I just don’t—“

“You’re not gonna hurt me.”

Will slips in another finger and then he _pumps_ and Nico is rendered into a quivering mess, unable to do anything but whimper as Will touches him. His hands are everywhere, running through his hair, caressing the curve of his breasts, trailing down his stomach. He finds Nico’s tender spots with shocking ease, and works them until Nico cries out, hips jolting up as he climaxes.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ —“

“Can’t believe you kiss me with that mouth,” Will says, dragging his lips along Nico’s neck, waiting until Nico comes back down from the high before pulling his fingers out.

Nico’s panting, trying to catch his breath, but there’s a smile on his face and his cheeks are flushed. “That was the best ten minutes of my life.”

Will grins and falls next to him on the bed, looking very pleased with himself. “Always glad to be of service.”      

Nico rolls over and kisses Will’s cheek. “It’s good to be back.”

“It’s good to have you back.”

**and possibly i like the thrill**

Most nights aren’t eventful. Most nights they just sleep, curled around each other until someone turns the wrong way and rolls off the bed. Nico takes to sleeping flush against Will’s side, with Will’s arm protectively around his shoulders. Nightmares are less recurrent, but they still happen. And having someone there to hold him when he wakes up, to remind him of where he is and that he isn’t alone helps a lot.

His head rests on Will’s chest as they wait for fatigue to take over. Will is drawing lazy circles on Nico’s back, and Nico is playing with a loose thread on Will’s shirt.

“You know I love you,” Will says, his voice quiet.

Nico doesn’t think he’s felt so content in his whole life. “I love you, too.”

His eyes flutter shut, and he listens to the steady rhythm of Will’s heartbeat as he slips into sleep.

**of under me you so quite new**

**Author's Note:**

> please leave feedback i get so nervous about writing porn


End file.
